


Rough

by lazaefair



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blowjobs, Fluff, M/M, PWP, Poe Dameron's beautiful face, stubble kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6537883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazaefair/pseuds/lazaefair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn asks Poe for a favor. (AKA: smut. Not even particularly kinky smut. Just...smut.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rough

Finn taps the datapad thoughtfully, sets it down on Poe’s desk. “I’ll do it on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Next time we get a couple days off together, don’t shave.”

Poe raises an eyebrow. “Seems like a small thing to get in return for the favor I’m asking.”

The grin that splits Finn’s face, wide and gleaming, is pretty firmly on Poe’s list of Favoritest Things Ever. “Trust me, Poe, it’ll worth it to me.”

*

He figures it out about two weeks later on their second day off, right around the time Finn’s sitting on the edge of his bunk and he’s kneeling between Finn’s legs, laying kisses. At the first brush of stubble against the velvety-smooth skin of his inner thighs, Poe can _feel_ the tremor that runs through the other man. The fact that Finn lets out a helpless groan also clues him in.

Experimentally, he rubs his cheek against one leg, close to the groin, which produces spectacular results. Finn’s cock visibly twitches and drools pre-come and he brings his hands up to bury them in Poe’s hair. “Do you get it now?” Finn asks, breathing hard. 

“Oh yeah, I think I do,” Poe says, and goes to town. Several long, long minutes later, he has Finn flat on his back on the sheets, legs thrown wide open and all but writhing, unutterably gorgeous. Poe leans back. The skin on Finn’s thighs, hips, and belly has been thoroughly scratched and roughened, and his voice has gone hoarse. 

“Kriff, Poe,” he moans. He sounds wrecked already. Poe wraps a hand around his own cock for a second, just a second, achingly hard at both sight and sound. “Please.”

“Whatever you want,” Poe tells him and leans forward, slow, slowly enough for Finn to refuse if he needs to. He lays his cheek against the base of Finn’s erection.

_“Yes,”_ Finn hisses. It takes just a leisurely sway of his neck to press and drag his cheek up the length of Finn’s cock, but the moan Finn lets out at that is _obscene._ Poe can’t help grinning, swept up with affection and pride at getting this reaction out of Finn, even if he has to lay his forearms across the other man’s thighs to hold him down. He rubs against Finn’s cock a few more times, relishing the increasingly desperate noises falling from Finn’s mouth.

When he finally tilts his face to the right and takes the head between his lips, swirling his tongue at the same time, Finn swears. Loudly. He’s got to be fairly tender right now, pleasure and pain signals setting off fireworks in his brain, and Poe is not merciful. He swallows Finn down as much as he can, wrapping his hand around the base and working the shaft in rhythm with his mouth.

Poe will be clean-shaven again next morning, but Finn is going to feel every second of this for the next couple of days at least. Walking, sitting, dressing. Training. Fighting.

He twists his hand a little meanly, letting his calluses scrape, and Finn jerks, his back arching, his thighs trembling, and comes with a gasp. Every half-formed sound he makes goes through Poe like a spark - kriff, he’s gone on this kid. He closes his eyes as he swallows.

*

It would take someone considerably blinder than Poe to miss the way Finn stares at him as he’s shaving the next morning. Since he’s a pilot, of course, his eyesight is perfect.

“Did I miss a spot?” he asks, shaking shaving cream off his razor.

“No.” Finn’s already showered, shaved and dressed, all head-to-toe stormtrooper efficiency. The smile on his face is unique to him, though. “I’m in temporary mourning.”

Poe raises an eyebrow at him in the mirror. “Who’s the temporary departed?”

“Obviously.” Finn motions at Poe’s face. “All that glorious stubble, dying a tragic foamy death. Just going down the drain.” He heaves a dramatic sigh.

It’s not like Poe is unaware of how he looks with a five o’clock shadow, or the impact it has on most of the sentient species sexually compatible with human males. He spent his twenties in the New Republic Starfleet, thank you. Still - Finn’s specific and insistent appreciation sends a warm flush of gratification down Poe’s spine. “I’ll put a word in with the General, see if we can relax the military discipline around here.” He gestures expansively, towel in hand. “Stubble for days.”

“She won’t go for it,” Finn says, and slides his arms around Poe’s waist from behind. His shirt is soft and worn, and Poe relishes how it feels against his bare skin. “She _hates_ Master Skywalker’s beard. Even after she made him trim it.”

“Fair point,” Poe concedes, muffled by the towel. He emerges to blink at Finn’s gorgeous face looking at him in the mirror, chin resting on his shoulder. “Guess you’ll just have to put up with my baby-smooth skin for the rest of your life, poor thing.”

“I said the mourning was temporary, didn’t I?” Finn says, unfazed like he didn’t just hear what Poe’s accidentally admitted, and kisses his shoulder. Poe’s knees actually go weak for a second.

Sweet Force. He is so, so screwed.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Hourly Prompts: "explicit"  
> Combined with a picture of Oscar Isaac and a five o' clock shadow that floated across my dash immediately afterward, and my brain decided to bombard me with the mental image that led to this fic. Thanks for suffering through with me.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr!](http://lazaefair.tumblr.com/)


End file.
